Page 37 of Booked for Theft

TEN

“You’ll probably survive until Monday night.”

A little after six in the morning, we arrived at my parents’ farmhouse, and I went inside, found my cat, and buried my face in her fur. The few times I’d cried while holding her, she’d opted against flaying my flesh from my bones. Once again, she proved merciful despite me sniffling and otherwise making a mess of her thick coat.

“Don’t mind her,” Bradley said. “It’s the first time since going to Washington that she’s had a chance to cry. There was no way she was going to break down when the President of the United States might catch her doing it. And after her baby was bugged in the hospital parking lot, she wasn’t about to cry in the SUV either. As I know my parents are having your place swept daily, it’s a safe haven.”

My mother came over and rubbed my back. “It’s all right. Go get into your pajamas and take a nap, both of you. Everyone is coming over at nine, so you can get a little rest.”

I got up, peered through teary eyes enough to head towards my childhood bedroom, and said, “I’m fine. It’s an allergic reaction from being separated from my furry goddess for so long.”

“If you say so. Bacon with extra bacon for breakfast?”

“I’ll take some eggs if you have any.”

“Considering we have a dozen chickens, six ducks, and ten geese, all of which are laying eggs, I think it’s safe to say we have eggs. I’ll get you up half an hour before everyone else is supposed to get here, and I’ll contact Paul and make sure he has a team go over the SUV from fender to fender.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

Once in the safety of my childhood bedroom, which had a new bed so I could share with Bradley, a cat tree for Ajani, and a fancy litter box that did the scooping work for us, I set my kitty on the bed, gave her three strokes, and debated between letting loose and crying like I meant it or doing my best to bottle up my emotions.

My fiancé handed over a box of tissues. “If you don’t cry, I will start cracking terrible jokes until you cry, probably from anguish that I have subjected you to such horrible things. I will christen my new phone with awful puns, the kind that hurt your feelings because it’s a blatant abuse of words.”

As I had no doubt he would do as threatened, I laughed through my tears, took the box, and retrieved one, going to work blowing my nose. “Can I get away with using your back as my tissues once we’re in bed?”

Bradley set his bag down, rummaged through it, and dug out his pajamas, changing into them as he refused to be caught naked in his future mother-in-law’s home. “Sure. I can handle washing my pajamas tomorrow. Would it be easier if we were in bed with the lights off so you can talk about it without feeling like I’m watching you cry?”

“Yes.”

Bradley smiled, gave me a gentle kiss, and went about his evening routine, sliding into bed and inviting me in through patting the mattress. “Are you having trouble processing everything?”

“I’ve learned a few things.” What I had learned would bother me for a long time to come. Following his lead, I got changed, climbed under the covers, and waited to see what Ajani would do.

She decided to make herself at home above my head and purred.

Bradley turned off the light before joining me and presenting his back so I could engage in cuddling at will. I snuggled close, wrapped an arm around him, and sighed.

“I wish that we, as a society, didn’t treat tears as a crime. Unless we’re at a funeral, crying is weak—and even at a funeral, most consider it as a sign of weakness. Too many feel having emotions is some lack of greater virtue. It’s really not. Maybe if we weren’t so callous, things would be different right now.”

I gave myself some time to think that through. “I guess when we’re not supposed to show empathy or compassion, we grow to lack empathy and compassion.”

“That is often how it works, yes. And when people believe cruelty is strength, well, you end up with a cruel society. Honestly, I’m impressed Senator Thaddens survived as long as he did in politics. I guess he had sufficient ruthlessness to avoid being eliminated by the government.”

“And without his help, we won’t be able to see the progression of the bills—and how he was instructed to handle his participation might not happen at all.”

“Or someone else will get his marching orders. It could go either way. We’re going to have to get our hands on other copies of the bills—ideally, we’ll get a hold of numerous copies, tricking people into believing we aren’t involved with the thefts.”

I sighed. “This is going to be hard. How are we going to steal a bunch of files from politicians?”

“Carefully, and we’re going to copycat the assassins.”

My eyes widened. “What do you mean?”

“We’re going to steal their illusionary tricks so we can pull off the thefts. When we’re stealing things, we’re going to have illusionists set up decoys of us doing things we normally do. My father has a few illusionists working at his company, and he wants to see if such tactics can be used as part of enhancing security details. We will be disguised to look like somebody else or obscured completely, and our decoys will pretend to be us. Dad wants to see how far we can take it. He even has security specialists willing to act like they’re us. And knowing you, you’ll want to handle the thefts personally.”

Rather than protest as a knee-jerk reaction, I huffed over the idea and took a few minutes to think it through. “If we use mundane disguises on top of illusions, it might work. I definitely don’t want to put everyone in the cell at risk, and if we are caught, it could very well lead to our execution.”

“That was my thought, too. I want to limit the potential number of bodies, and that’s something we’ll have to discuss with the cell. As we get closer to voting day, it’s going to become harder to leave the country, too.”